Love beyond the mask (Whitney) novel Chapter 1155

Whitney finally caught her breath, her heart pounding as she realized just how quickly Ludwik had turned the tables. In the blink of an eye, he'd not only wrestled the gun away—one that had been aimed square at his chest—but had also pinned the wild, bloodthirsty Bryce to the floor, with the help of the SWAT team.

Half a dozen SWAT officers rushed in, surrounding Bryce and forcing him face-down onto the polished hardwood.

Bryce was completely finished.

He let out a couple of furious, guttural howls, his twisted face still defiant as he craned his neck, shooting daggers at Ludwik with his eyes. “This was all supposed to be mine! I fought tooth and nail for this! I haven’t lost—I haven’t! Ludwik, I swear, I’ll tear you apart!”

Ludwik just sneered, not wasting another word on him. He handed the gun to one of the officers, calmly wiping Bryce’s blood from his hands with a crisp white handkerchief. His eyes were cold and merciless. “You tried to use Mr. Wilson as a hostage—even now, you’re totally out of your mind. Just that alone will have the President throwing away the key on you.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “You and Florence can look forward to sharing a cell. Kidnapping, attempted murder—congratulations, you’re both looking at life behind bars.”

With a flick of his hand, he signaled the SWAT team to drag Bryce and Florence away.

A few shareholders craned their necks toward the windows, only to see the front of the building swarming with Ludwik’s men, all in tactical gear.

As for Bryce’s spies, and the muscle that Ronan Miller had sent as backup—they were already cuffed and lying face-down on the pavement, taken out before they could even make a move.

Bryce walked past them, glaring at his own bodyguards and Ronan’s guys, all of them shackled and beaten. It finally hit him: Ludwik had set this whole thing up from the very start, before he’d even stepped into this boardroom.

This meeting was a trap—a perfectly laid out, inescapable snare.

Bryce’s face went from pale to ashen. He was completely broken.

But he couldn’t accept it. To be crushed by Ludwik again, to lose everything once more—this time with a murder charge hanging over his head—it was too much to bear.

Florence was handcuffed and pushed into another squad car, her face ghostly white. She knew it was over. Whatever plans Bryce had, they were all out of cards now.

...

Upstairs in the boardroom, Whitney finally steadied herself. She approached the tall, broad-shouldered man who stood like a statue in his black suit and shirt, sharp as a blade. The tailored shirt hugged his athletic build. She couldn’t tell if he was hurt.

Her heart was still racing as she looked up at him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Ludwik, you fought him just now… Are you alright? Did you get hurt?”

Ludwik’s gaze shifted from the window—where SWAT loaded Bryce into the paddy wagon—back to her. Just then, the SWAT captain called to report. He hung up as Whitney spoke.

The worry in her voice, so gentle and real, seemed to thaw the ice in his eyes, just a little.